Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?
French translations: ((example))
Responses to reviewers for the last chap: tkmoore, tissues in hand? good, and again, remember that you love me. (grins hopefully) Catalina Royce, love you! love your reviews! (hyper-salivates at the thought of another) Cloaked, darling! lovely review as always! (bows) madcow, didn't mean to make you cry! oh, wait, yes I did! (runs and hides before you can throw something) :) Wicked Not Evil, thanksthanksthanksthanks!!!! Jan, angered you, did I? (blushes) sorry! el chikita joules, thank you!! EvaYasha, deep breaths…take deep breaths…:) SkotosEnigma, I'm glad you liked it even though it was fucked up! short arse, I am quite evil, huh? lol Fallen, (sighs) continuing. your puppy eyes overpowered me. :) angelfire33, please attempt to read the whole chapter before flipping out, k? love ya! sillysun, thanks for having faith in me! love ya! bigreader, it can be a word if you want it to be, lol. and thanks!! AineSironaTsuki, thanks! Haunted-Shadows, umm, is speechlessness a good thing or a bad thing? :) quimbytimmons, not quite so violent, no. :) Lithui, updating, updating! lol sexyjunkie, thank you SO much! zhizhi192, what is 'ns'? just curious, and thanks for reviewing! VirginVixen-666, well, that was an interesting ultimatum! lol Tom4ever, thanks! chrissyangel, thank you! Meryl12, no, it's not prewritten. I'm obsessed. Iced Faerie, (cackles) I like being evil! kiA, check out the beginning of ch.8, and there's a short explanation there. let me know if it's not enough! me, no need to beg, thanks for reviewing! aoi-yuki-yume, oooh, voldie better watch out for you! :) AnitaBlake/BuffyFan, updating, as requested! candace1989, thank you!!!! Ludra, thank you so much! musiclover86, noooooo, thank YOU! otaku sae, you'll have to wait and see! :) Tytianne, as usual, thanks a million! Psi, here's more! lol gin rose raposo1, THANKS! mz.sammiz, more, as demanded, lol. babykelyse, thank you!!!!
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Lycelle collapsed onto the nearest relatively soft thing that she could make out through her exhaustion, not really caring what it was as long as she was off of her feet. Her entire body was sore; she felt like she'd been running a three-day marathon, which wasn't too bad of a comparison seeing as how she hadn't slept in over seventy-two hours. Not to mention the complete fucking wreckage her emotions had been left in by all that had transpired. A strand of her hair came loose from its restraining bun, tickling her nose, but she didn't have the energy or the willpower to lift a hand and brush it back. It's not like it really mattered.
Even the thought of worrying over something so small and insignificant seemed impossible when there was so much more too be concerned over. Hell, to be panicking over. Which most everyone was doing, though most had finally succumbed to their weariness hours before. Three days. It had been three days since the disastrous mission at Nor Gorgun, three days since everything had changed in ways much more horrible than they could have imagined. As the images bloomed inside her skull for the thousandth time, she knew that she would be unable to find any rest yet again, even though her body and mind screamed for it.
Severus had brought down the out-of-control circles after his seventh frenzied attempt, and Lycelle had been the first to make it to Virginia and Padma's side. She hadn't so much as started reaching out her hand for Virginia's shoulder when the girl had lashed out with sharp claws and nearly killed her. The lethal blow had been aimed at her heart, and only Padma's quick reflexes had saved her. No one had gone near the two girls after that, leaving them where they were. Padma had still been shaking with racking sobs, but Virginia had done nothing. After her initial raging and her attack on Lycelle, she had gone still and lifeless, her eyes glazed and unseeing.
Half an hour had passed before the entrance to the dungeons had opened, and those who'd gone to Nor Gorgun had stumbled in, their faces white and drawn with shock and sorrow. Fred and George had been the first inside, Anton and Pansy in their arms, and they wore looks of guilt and disbelief, as did those who followed them. She had been surprised to see Vincent carrying Bellatrix Black, and Gregory had been beside him with Daphne, who'd been wrapped from head to foot in a long, black cloak, much like her sister. Mira, Marcello, Millicent and Sebastian had trailed them, walking with their shoulders hunched and their eyes lowered in defeat.
She had leapt to her feet, Hermione wisely staying behind on the divan, and had gone to her sister, while trying not to think of the tears rising in her throat when she had seen that Draco and Blaise really weren't with them. The other Slytherins who'd been in the common room had been told to go back to their rooms, since Severus had needed to start looking at the girls' injuries and had no intention of them standing around and gawking. Ignoring the questions of where Draco and Blaise were just like he'd avoided the ones about what was wrong with Virginia and Padma, he'd shooed them out while the twins, Crabbe, and Goyle had laid their charges down gently.
That was when Virginia had snapped briefly back into reality.
"F-Fred? Geo-George?" She'd called, surprising everyone. They'd gone to her immediately, but she'd stood before they could kneel beside her. "Where are they?"
"Virginia—"
"Where are they!?" She'd demanded, and they had looked away. Her face falling, she'd taken a deep breath before running dead eyes over those who had returned. "You all made it?" She'd asked, her voice oh-so-soft.
"Yes."
"But they didn't." It hadn't really been a question, and Lycelle had seen the twins' hands shaking when they'd replied anyway.
"No." Their voices had been rough and strained, and she'd noticed with a start that they had faded a bit, just like Padma, but nowhere near as drastically as Virginia had.
"It all happened so quickly…" She'd started, and the first hysterical giggle had escaped her lips. "Did any of you even try to stop them? Save them?"
"We…" The twins had stopped, their expressions absolutely wretched, before Padma had reached out and taken their hands, and they'd continued, their voices still wavering. "There was no time. We didn't even know what was happening."
"No time." Virginia had repeated, giggling again and slowly pulling a handful of her hair out. "No time, no time, no time…" Her brothers' looks had sharpened then, and Lycelle knew that they had seen the same spark of growing insanity inside her eyes as she had. Paling rapidly, they'd reached for her again, but she'd recoiled.
"Rose, pleas—"
"No! Don't touch me. No one must touch me." She'd exclaimed, backing away, her hands twisting in her robes and clenching into fists. "My fault…all my fault…"
"None of this is your fault." Padma had intoned gently, but Virginia had shaken her head, her breathing becoming erratic.
"Yes, yes, it is. If he didn't need me, none of this would have happened. And now…" In a split second, her entire demeanor had changed, becoming wild and crazed. "They promised! They promised they would come back to me! They said they would never leave me alone, they swore they would never do this…" Falling to her knees, the pendant they'd given her for Yule had appeared out of her skin, laying still and glittering on her graying flesh. Then she'd wrapped one hand around it before snapping off a third of the moon's crescent.
"Virginia, what are you—"
"I want them back!" She'd yelled frantically, the piece of the Isisian Charm in her fist cutting into her skin even as the rest had disappeared once more. Turning and throwing the shard on the floor hard, she'd made her first wish as she'd watched it shatter. "Do not take them from me! Do not let that miscreant god steal my heart and soul from me! Bring them back to me! Please…please…bring them back to me…" Her voice had become disjointed and low towards the end, before she'd sunken to the ground gracelessly, her head in her hands as her whole body had started shaking violently.
She did not speak a word for hours after that, and no one had known how to help her, not even Padma and the twins. And they hadn't been much better off anyway, Lycelle thought caustically. No one had been. Virginia had gone blank and silent again, and the twins and Padma had done their best to push past their own grief in order to heal Pansy and Daphne as best they could, which had been a lot, even though it had drained them more than they already were. Severus had been, to say the least, highly surprised to find Bella with them, and the look on his face would have been comical had the air not been so thick with tragedy.
Lycelle had been quite sick when she'd seen and heard the extent of her sister and Daphne's wounds, and her head had been throbbing horribly ever since. The tale of Anton's unleashing had been told in hushed whispers while they'd been getting supplies ready, and Lycelle had blanched, even as the others had taken on looks of awe and even deeper respect. Just another of the numerous ways in which she was bloody different. Forgive her if she thought that destroying a room full of people with a single burst of wandless magick wasn't just a bit freaky. The rest of the story had been spoken in parts by all of them, and Lycelle hadn't liked a word of it.
Her sister, Daphne, Anton and Bella had all been moved into Severus's room before the sun had risen, and no one was really expected to go to classes that day. But a few had been going to breakfast, and Lycelle had hesitantly made her way to Virginia's side and asked if she wanted to go, just for a little while. To her surprise, Virginia had risen to join her. It wasn't until she'd seen the automaton-type movements and dull eyes that she'd realized the girl wasn't even really aware of, well, anything. Nervous after her earlier attack, Lycelle had led her to the Great Hall, Sebastian and Marcello shadowing them mournfully but watchfully.
It had all gone all right at first, none of the rest of the school had known what had happened, and although they'd given Virginia weird looks, no one had said anything. It hadn't been until she'd overheard two first year Slytherins at the end of the table talking in hushed whispers that she'd snapped. Lycelle hadn't been able to hear what they'd said, but she'd definitely heard Virginia's acidic, yet somehow pleading, words as she'd stood abruptly. 'They are NOT dead!' She'd hissed, her claws sinking into thick wood a second before she'd sent the entire Slytherin table flying. It had flipped straight up and over their heads, before slamming into the wall behind them and breaking in half with a deafening 'BOOM'.
Food and (mostly spiked) juice had flown everywhere, dozens of students had started screaming, and she'd stalked out of the Hall without a backwards glance. Lycelle and the others had gone after her, only to find her by Pansy's bedside, channeling raw, healing energy into her. She'd been zombie-like again, and stayed that way for an entire day. A day during which they had all avoided the other Slytherins' questions, but couldn't ignore Dumbledore's any longer. So the story had been unwillingly repeated, quite a few parts left out, and Lycelle was pretty sure that had been the first time that she'd ever seen the Headmaster look stunned.
They hadn't been five minutes done with the recollection when Narcissa and Silana had burst through the floo, dirty and covered in scrapes and bruises, and they'd nearly given them all heart attacks. They'd each been clutching an amulet tightly, and Lycelle had been reminded of the last time they'd come in looking so frightened and angry, except they hadn't been in such a state of disrepair. They'd mumbled something about South America, a cave in, and malfunctioning International Apparation points, before they'd demanded to see their sons. And so the story had been told yet again, and it had been horrific to see the proud women lose all control and sob openly.
Narcissa had been taken to Bella's side after a while, and she had not moved since except once, her hand wrapped around her sister's in a death grip. The only thing that she had requested was for Sirius to come, and Severus, for once, hadn't argued or even made a snide comment. Mira had stayed with Silana, and Armynel and Sirius had arrived at the same time. No one had really spoken, only the smallest flickerings of hope in their hearts. Isisian Charms were never supposed to fail; they all knew that. But did that count when your adversary was a god? And which god had it been that had been able to trap Cocidius and take Draco and Blaise?
So many questions, and no answers. Anton had healed the fastest, and he stayed at Pansy's side constantly, curled up beside her with his arms placed around her carefully, so as not to cause her mangled body more pain. Virginia's magick had helped, but the girl wasn't up to her usual levels. Every hour that passed without her lovers coming through the entrance weakened her a little bit more. Not a single word had escaped her lips nor a single emotion crossed her face as she'd moved mechanically from Pansy to Daphne to Bella and back again, trading out with Padma and the twins. And then, a day and a half since Draco and Blaise had been taken, it had happened.
Later, Lycelle had found out that the crate had been allowed into the castle since wealthier students routinely had furniture and such shipped from back home or from some store or another, and it had passed all of the security checks. Had the professor who had done the checking known what was inside, it never would have made it to the dungeons. But they hadn't, they'd only known that it wasn't dangerous and had sent it on down. Gregory had been the one to answer the knocking from outside, and he'd let them carry in the crate with a puzzled expression. Most of the House had been in the common room at the time, and Severus had been the one to open it.
Vincent actually fainting should have been her first clue, but she hadn't known anything was seriously wrong until Severus had turned green and demanded that everyone get back. They hadn't listened, of course, and Mira had been the next to get a look inside. She'd screamed immediately, a small hand slamming over her mouth seconds later as she'd stumbled backwards as if she'd been struck. Lycelle had jumped up, curiosity overcoming her, and wished that she'd known then what she would see. She would have stayed in her seat, to say the least. Someone had yelled for somebody to restrain Virginia, who'd become animate again at Mira's scream.
On leaden feet, Lycelle had reached the crate, her dread growing with every step. Closing her eyes once she'd reached it, she'd taken several deep breaths before forcing herself to look, and she had instantly regretted it. Draco and Blaise had laid side by side, their hair tangled and matted with dark blood and their bodies covered in it. Burns had wrapped around them from head to foot, their robes melted into the open wounds, and their open eyes had told it all. 'Dead', those sightless eyes had screamed, 'dead!' Fighting a wave of nausea, she'd shuffled back and nearly fallen over in her attempt to get away. Then an animalistic shriek had cut through her haze.
Virginia had fought her way to the crate, had seen what it held, and the last of her sanity had fled with her hope. Lycelle had thought the girl had sounded destroyed the first time in the circles, but she'd been wrong. The sheer soul-pain in that heart-wrenching cry had held more agony than someone could possibly survive. It was dark and fierce and desperate, and Lycelle's tears had been ripped from her in a torrent as she'd watched Virginia come completely undone. Scream after tormented scream had poured from her as she'd crumpled to the ground like a rapidly withering flower that knew there would not be another spring.
She'd scared the fuck out of them all then, as one of the swords she'd used that day on the Quidditch pitch had appeared in her hand, and had George not been right next to her, her blow would have struck true and pierced her heart. Instead, it had been knocked to the side not a second too soon and impaled her shoulder. She had not even seemed to notice the pain, had just yanked it back out and spun towards her brother. Fred had come up behind her and snatched the blade a moment later, and she had seemed to switch plans, placing her hands on her chest as she'd begun turning her magic against herself.
Pandemonium had ensued for a good minute before Padma and Severus had finally got everyone to shut up, and Padma had called in that odd, disquieting book that they'd used to make the circles. Laying the book on her lap, she'd put her hands over it and closed her eyes. The pages had started fluttering, slowly and then faster and faster, before falling still. Her eyes had scanned the page quickly, and her face had become grave. Moving to Virginia's side, she'd managed to pry one of the other girl's hands from her chest, but was unable to dislodge the other. Nodding briskly, a new purpose shining in her dark eyes, she'd stood and told them what had been needed.
"She's killing herself." She'd stated, confirming what they'd suspected. "But we can stop it."
"How?" The twins had asked, their expressions completely miserable.
"There's a spell we can do." She'd explained. "It will bind her and stop the flow, but…"
"But what?" They'd asked, their faces becoming grim at her downtrodden look.
"We need virgin blood again." She'd finally replied, and Sebastian had sneered.
"Then we'll go get some more." He'd said, his tone making it clear that he would do whatever was necessary to get said blood. But Padma had shaken her head.
"It's not just that." She'd told them, her eyes running over her dying friend. "It's going to require the blood of two virgins, nearly all of it, and a piece of their spirit as well." Silence had reigned after those words, interrupted only by Narcissa and Silana's quiet crying as they'd rocked their sons in their arms, sitting inside the crate that they'd forced their way to.
"I take it they have to do it willingly?" George had asked, and Lycelle hadn't liked the look in his eyes at all.
"Yes." Padma had responded, meeting those disturbing eyes with an ease that Lycelle knew she would never possess. "I will be one of them, but we still need another." George and Fred had exchanged looks before leaning over and brushing their sister's limp hair from her face, which had been starting to sweat as her body heat had risen.
"We failed them, sister. Them and you." They'd whispered, and the pain in their voices had caused even more tears to stream down Lycelle's face. "But we will not fail in this." Rising, they had looked at the Slytherins around them before smirking, and she'd liked that even less than the looks in their eyes. "Isn't your House owed a debt?" They'd asked, and Melody, who'd only been away from Daphne's side to get more salve but had frozen when she'd seen her friends, had been the one to answer them.
"Yes. By that girl who turned on your sister."
"Lauren." The twins had said, the name rolling from their lips like a curse.
"Come on." Sebastian had intoned viciously, Marcello at his side. "Let's go get that little bitch. It's time for her to learn just how unpleasant the prices for our favors are."
The four of them had been gone less than twenty minutes, but it had felt like an eternity, especially as they'd watched Virginia's condition worsen by the second. Melody had disappeared back into Severus's rooms, and Anton had come out for the first time a few seconds later, his eyes frantic. She'd apparently told him what had happened, and he'd gone straight to the crate. When he'd seen Narcissa and Silana, when he'd seen his best friends, Lycelle had been able to do nothing as she'd watched a part of him die. Moving as if in a dream, he'd gone to their side with none of his usual grace, his movements short and stilted.
He'd done nothing for several long moments, before the first, glassy tears had streaked down his face from hazel eyes that still held specks of black. Then, without the slightest bit of repulsion, he'd leaned down and brushed his lips over their charred ones before pulling back and bolting from the room without so much as a word. The rest of the House hadn't said anything either, most too stunned to speak and others simply refusing to, before the entrance had opened again and the twins, Sebastian and Marcello had drug a struggling Lauren inside. If she hadn't been needed, the first words out of her mouth would have gotten her killed by a Slytherin mob.
"I don't care! I'm not helping that fucking whore and I don't give a shit what kind of trouble she's gotten herself into! I—" She'd been cut off when Mira had appeared like a furious whirlwind, snatching the girl from the others and slamming her into a wall. A clawed hand had stayed wrapped around her throat, her feet dangling off of the ground, and Mira's eyes had been burning veela red.
"You will do as you're bid, little witch, or I will spill your innards all over the floor and play in them." She'd hissed, and fear had settled heavily in Lauren's gaze. "You are bound by your oath, and we are ready to collect on it. I can assure you that a refusal will result in a most slow and nasty death."
"Umag ugg." Lauren had choked out, her face turning purple with lack of oxygen. Mira had smiled, a scary, unsettling smile, before tossing the girl at Padma's feet.
The spell had worked, and Lauren hadn't said anything once her eyes had landed on Virginia. Lycelle swore that she had seen regret and sadness there, but she didn't really care if she had or not. The girl was a fucking cunt, and no amount of remorse would change that. When Virginia had come back to awareness and realized what had been done, she'd completely freaked out. The common room had been mostly destroyed, and everyone had run for cover but for the twins, Padma, Narcissa and Silana. She hadn't used magic, as she couldn't because of the binding, but she hadn't needed it to vent her rage and heartbreak.
But then, after she had spent what little was left of her strength, she'd started raving, talking to shadows and chairs and herself, and they'd been helpless to stop her mental erosion. But they'd had to do something when she'd attacked anyone who came back inside the common room. No one had been able to really blame her though, seeing as how the nameless voices had taken on names after a while, and she'd rambled nonsense to her dead boyfriends as if they were right beside her, alive and whole. With tears in their eyes, Padma and the twins had overpowered her and locked her in her room, shielding it for hours to ensure that she couldn't escape.
That weird book had been brought out again in order to do it, and the twins had lost their drive afterwards, sinking to the floor on either side of the vampire portrait and burying their faces in their arms. Lycelle had dared to hope, then, that the worst had passed. She'd been wrong. Sitting beside her sister's bed a day later, she'd been surprised when Pansy's hand had tightened around her own. Anton had been out, finally forced to take a sleeping draught, but Pansy's eyes had been open and latched onto her. A smile had bloomed across her face, as her sister had woken a few times in the last couple days but never when she was there.
"Hey there." She'd said softly, running her thumb lightly along Pansy's scarred hand. Her sister's eyes flicked to Anton as if to reassure herself that he hadn't disappeared, before returning to Lycelle. She'd removed her hand from her sister's and placed it on her thigh before tracing out words that had Lycelle shrinking back.
'Where are Draco and Blaise? No one will tell me.'
Her brain stalling, Lycelle had desperately wondered what she was supposed to say to that. It would be folly to tell the truth, and she had no idea what kind of lie to fabricate. But her silence and terrified eyes had been enough of a response for Pansy, and Lycelle cursed herself for not having a typical Slytherin's emotional control, cursed herself for not always having a mask ready to slide into place. Her sister had started struggling to rise, looking absolutely horrified, and it had shaken Anton from his slumber. He'd put his hands on her shoulders, forcing her gently back down, but she wouldn't have any of it.
"What did you say to her?" Anton had asked, the slightest hint of accusation in his voice as his haunted eyes had met hers.
"N-Nothing." Lycelle had stammered, trying to help him get Pansy calm.
But her sister's finger had flown over Anton's flesh, and he'd stopped abruptly, staring at nothing. That had been too much, and Pansy had screamed before vaulting out of the bed with much more speed than someone as hurt as she was should have been able to manage. Draco and Blaise had, thankfully, been moved from the common room, and Pansy's next question when they'd caught her had been about Virginia. Against everyone's wishes, she'd demanded to see the girl, and had only been given the okay after promising not to move again afterwards until she was healed. Padma had gone in with her, and they'd stayed inside for almost an hour.
Neither had been the same when they had emerged, and their grief was tangible, thick and throbbing in the air around them. Pansy had blamed herself, and had looked as if she hadn't really been able to believe that two of her best friends were gone, the other mad. It had taken hours to get Pansy back to sleep, and only now did Lycelle take the time herself to try and rest. Gods, even her hair hurt. She heard someone coming up behind her, and didn't object when Marcello started kneading the aching muscles in her neck and shoulders. It wasn't until he leaned over, one darkly tanned finger brushing a sparkling tear from her cheek, that she realized she was crying again.
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Umethi flew silently through the Forbidden Forest, every sense on guard and waiting for danger. He and his kindred had been ordered to stay behind and watch over their masters' flame-haired princess, and they continued to do so even as their grief ate at their insides. They knew they would fade from it sooner or later, as the masters had left behind no heirs, and they each believed they deserved that final death. They should not have listened to them that last time, they should have fought harder against their binds. And they would have had they known that a god had turned traitor. They could feel the ripples of the betrayal running through the ether.
Umethi sighed for the first time in centuries. How had it come to this? How had their masters' fates been shortened and stalled so cruelly? He did not know, and he had the strangest desire to go…somewhere. He could not tell where, though, and it worried him as few things did. He was making his fifth circle over the forest when the vision took him and he fell from the sky. He distinctly felt the barest touch of the Lady, farther away then he'd ever known Her to go, before he was standing in a hallway, watching as his masters shoved their friends through the portal that they had spent hours creating to get them out of Nor Gorgun.
He could do nothing but watch and seethe as the divine form of Dagda swept towards them. It was a god he would know anywhere, in any shape or form. He watched as his masters faced their deaths, watched as they were taken, and then he was swirling through darkness again until it evened out and he saw…the ocean. That was where he wanted to go so badly. He knew why when the scene unfolded before him. He was standing by the waves where they hit the shore, and a low stone labyrinth stretched out in front of him. He recognized it, and seconds later, Dagda appeared with his masters in hand, His glowing face lit with triumph.
The twisted god threw their bodies down carelessly, and Umethi started when he saw that they were still breathing. So He hadn't killed them immediately then. They were burned horribly from the trip in Dagda's hands, but they were alive. When Dagda made to finish them off, though, he realized that they wouldn't be for long. But then…Dagda couldn't do it. Oh, He tried, but shields like moonlight deflected all of his killing shots of power, and Umethi felt the telltale glimmer in the magick. Hope soared within him for the first time in days. The Isisian Charm, he thought wildly, his heart beating rapidly for the first time in…in a very long time.
Dagda roared, and two hooded figures raced out of the labyrinth, debasing themselves before the god instantly until they were told to rise. Dagda gave them instructions after a space of thoughtful silence, and Umethi's rage grew as he watched the lackeys pluck a handful of hair from each of his masters' heads. Dagda started laughing, and a low table appeared on the sand, two writhing wizards strapped to it like offerings. Which they probably were. They died quickly, not even having time to really scream, and a wave of Dagda's hand had two cauldrons coming into view on the table. The hairs were placed inside them, and the potions forced down dead throats.
"Have these delivered." The god told His followers, and they nodded as the bodies on the table morphed into exact replicas of Umethi's masters. "Unlike Polyjuice, this will not wear off. Take them to the girl. I'll take care of these two."
The men unchained the bodies, and off they went with them back into the labyrinth. Dagda turned considering eyes on the two Elementals at His feet, before His hand waved again and twin davascian coffins appeared next to them. He didn't even bother opening them, just sent their bodies straight through the coffin's lids. Heavy chains of davasca began wrapping around them, and Umethi was sure that more of the same was constraining his masters inside. Dagda pulled back and admired His work for a few seconds, before He threw glowing shields around it all.
Then He was shooting into the air with both coffins in hand, and Umethi followed, flight coming as easy in the vision as it did in reality. They sped out over the waves, clouds parting before Dagda as courtiers would, and Umethi wished that Dagda had not been so careful. If the air had been able to sense Blaise, it would have turned against the foul god. But davasca severed all ties when it was made into such a complete prison, and the wind knew not that its beloved was being stolen. Finally, Dagda began to slow, and He shot back down and towards the blue water, which sparkled like a million crystalline tears in the moonlight.
He did not stop above the waves but sliced past them, and Umethi stayed right on His heels as they dove and dove. He did not pay attention to the animal life around him, but he did pay attention to the ocean's permanent landmarks, cataloguing them inside his mind. But still they dove, until all light had been extinguished except for the occasional luminescent sea creature. After another stretch of endless descent, the ocean floor finally stopped its steep sloping and leveled out, and Dagda chained the coffins to a huge metal rod that had certainly not grown there naturally.
As the silt settled around them again, he could see rusty scraps of other chains attached to it, and wondered how many times Dagda had used this place. Then everything flipped and spun, and he was falling through the thick branches of the trees outside Hogwarts, seconds from hitting the ground. Pulling back at the last second and shooting back up, he ignored the calls of his kindred and sped for the castle, calling in the items he thought he would need. He knew what had to be done. They could not go after their masters themselves, the binds still held too strong, but he knew one who could. They would stay and watch over the princess. They could see beneath the skin; they knew her worth.
But the other…It was time for the other to break down destiny's door and see if she could change the dreary future for them all.
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Padma had never been so tired in her life. She didn't even know you could be as worn out as she was. She knew that she needed some rest desperately, but her thoughts were still in turmoil, and she couldn't stop, couldn't relax. She felt a tug on her mind but ignored it, forcing Anton into taking a restorative potion and threatening to simply knock him unconscious and give it to him herself if he didn't. He needed replenishment as much as anyone considering how much his unleashing had weakened him, and the fact that he hadn't eaten anything in three days. He finally relented and swallowed it before sinking back down beside Pansy once more.
Moving on to Melody, she gave the same threat and watched as the girl downed another vial of the potion. Taking it back from her, she went to put it up and fought off the blackness that was creeping into her vision and trying to overwhelm her. She felt the weird tug again, but pushed it away and started bottling more of the potions. Her hands were aching, practically begging for her to stop, but she didn't. Couldn't. Daphne made a strangled noise, and Padma stumbled over to her, ignoring Anton's accusing look. He knew how tired she was, and had been on her case for hours to sleep, calling her everything from stubborn to a hypocrite.
Daphne's body was healing nicely, the lesser scars already beginning to fade, but her mind was another matter altogether. She still hadn't slipped out of the strange trance that she was in, and the only people who'd been able to touch her without her flinching away and whimpering were Padma, Virginia and Melody. But Virginia was in no condition to help anyone now, and Melody wasn't a healer. That left Padma, and she was determined to help the girl as much as she could. Soothing her with a calming touch and gentle hands, Padma waited until she was sleeping peacefully again before sitting back. That tug pulled again, and in her weariness, she followed it.
'Earth-child! You must come!' A voice like music sounded inside her head, and she gasped, a hand going to her temple.
'Who are you?' She asked, worried that she was traipsing after Virginia into lunacy.
'Umethi. Now come!' The voice replied, and she wondered what one of the Ezutîël could possibly want with her.
Knowing that he wouldn't have summoned her for nothing, she made her way out of Slytherin mostly unnoticed since everyone was sleeping; even the twins were after she'd made them take sleeping draughts. She stuck to the shadows as she made her way to the nearest exit, and no one noted her passage. Sliding through a door on the first floor, the cold air hit her face and she cursed the fact that she had forgotten her cloak. And now there was no Draco to call on and…Choking back yet another sob, she morosely thought that there had probably been more tears spilled in Slytherin the last few days then ever before.
'Over here, young one.' That voice called again, the tug leading her west and towards the boat dock.
She almost lost her balance several times as she navigated the slippery stone steps that led down to it, and it made her finally acknowledge just how sapped of strength she was. She opened the door slowly when she finally got there, and smelt the different polishes and fish remains that Hagrid had left lying about. Three boats were docked inside, but she couldn't see or smell anything else. Then one of the shadows melted away from the wall, and the guard approached her as the door shut with a soft 'click' that echoed through the stone room. Had she not known better, she probably would have thought he was a Dementor even without the snaking cold.
"Umethi." She said by way of greeting, inclining her head respectfully. He did the same, his hood obscuring his face, as always. "Where are your kindred?"
"Around, my lady." He replied with a voice like a silk covered dagger. "Would you do anything to bring them back?" He asked, getting right to the point. He didn't need to say who he meant.
"Of course." She responded automatically, before his question sunk in. "Wait, what are you talking about? We already got them back, thanks to that bloody charm."
"No, you didn't." He said simply, and she felt as if she'd just been thrown into a pool of ice water, every sense becoming sharp and focused for the first time in over a day and a half.
"What? Of course we did, they're—"
"Those are not their bodies."
Can your entire world be rebuilt in an instant? She knew that it could break that quickly, but could five small words really cause the surge of strength and hope within her that she felt spiraling out from her core? Could they really cause her head to feel light and her fingers to tingle? Could they make her see a different path than the one that she'd been sure she would be walking only moments ago? Could they? She thought so, since she could find no other explanation for those things. Looking into that shadowed hood and wishing she could see his face, she did know one thing for sure. She was going to kill him if he was lying to her.
"They're not dead?" She asked in a tiny whisper that no mortal ear could have heard, and she received a single nod accompanied by a shrug.
"No. I don't believe they are. Not yet, anyway. But they don't have long."
"How do you know this?" She questioned breathlessly, the thought of her friends alive making her feel as if she were floating.
"A vision from the Lady."
"But She is unreachable!" Padma protested, as her link to the Lady had stretched into nearly nothing when She had submerged herself days ago. Padma had tried to reach Her countless times and failed.
"Yes." Umethi agreed with another nod. "I can only assume that She had a vision of Her own and sent mine to me."
"Where are they? How can I help them? How much time do they have?" The inquiries poured from her in a rush, and she felt as if a clock somewhere had just started ticking, making her nervous and edgy, ready to do something.
"Here." He said, a bundle appearing in his hands. He unwrapped the thick, black velvet and told her what each of the items inside were for. "This," he explained, holding up a green glass vial, "will give you your energy back for exactly one hour. Do not take it until it is necessary. This," that time a dagger was held up, made of a metal she'd never seen before, "was forged by Hephaestus Himself, and will cut through davasca as even the masters' blades cannot. It is the only weapon made by His hands that has not been destroyed. And this," the last object was held up, a gray stone the size of her palm, "will portkey you back here once you get out of the wards."
"What wards? Where am I going?" She asked, taking the vial, the dagger and the stone from him.
He explained more about his vision, told her of the beach and the sunken coffins, as he walked her to the property's boundaries. The velvet bundle had turned out to be a cloak the twin of his, and they'd had to shorten the hem almost a foot for her to be able to walk in it without tripping. Padma had never felt such fury as she did while listening to him speak. He told her the truth of the god that had taken them, and she had been shocked to her core when Dagda's name had spilled from his lips. The All-Father had turned rotten? The Good God, the leader of the Tuatha Dé Danann, had taken Voldemort's side in the war? Impossible. But yet it was, and it changed everything.
"Here." Umethi said once they'd reached the end of the castle's wards, and he started to unsheathe one of his swords.
"No." She said, and he paused. "That's not necessary. Cocidius gifted me with my own at my Marking." The guard tilted his head in what she assumed was a thoughtful fashion.
"So all four sets are in this Realm once more." He commented, and as it wasn't a question, she said nothing. "Interesting. Well, are you ready?"
"Yes." She said, stepping outside the wards.
He reached through them, holding out another flat stone. She touched it and felt the invisible hook sink into her stomach, yanking her forward. Seconds passed, feeling like an age, before she was deposited on grainy, wispy grass, salty air settling on her tongue and in her throat. Looking up and reorienting herself, she could just make out the labyrinth Umethi had spoken of. Making sure she still had everything that she needed, she started out on what ended up being a two-hour hike though rocky, pit-ridden terrain that had her cursing and nearly in tears again by the time it was over. Her body hurt so badly, and she couldn't think properly at all.
Feeling the wards ahead of her, she stopped and activated her amulet, which Umethi had told her would lead her through them. Power filled her, but with her body already so depleted, it just made the pain lessen a bit and prevented the wards from slicing her into tiny pieces. Having no time to mess around, the few sentinels that she came across died quietly on the end of her sword. She had enough strength for that, at least. Finally winding her way through that damned maze of passageways, she fell to her knees when she reached the beach, unable to do more than breathe for several long minutes. She was almost positive that this was what dying felt like.
The thought of death had her reaching, ever so slowly, for the vial in her pocket. She mustn't give into exhaustion now, not when she was so close. Praying that the elixir would work as promised, she fought with the cork for what felt like an hour before she swallowed it all in two gulps. Nothing happened. Cursing that bastard guard in every language that she could think of, she nearly came out of her skin when she felt her reserves fill back up with rich, untapped strength a minute later. It flooded every pore and brought her to her feet, making her feel better than she had in days. The clock still ticking in her ears, she ran for the shore, hoping against hope that she wouldn't be too late.
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Hermione felt like a train had run her over, then backed up and did it again. She didn't think she had any tears left, and her limbs were in agony from staying in the same position for over three days. When everyone had come back from Nor Gorgun the other night, Hermione had curled into a ball at the end of the divan she was on, making herself as small as possible. No one had noticed her. Appalled when she'd heard that Draco and Blaise had not made it back, she'd left the divan and went to the far corner alcove, scrunching down and rocking back and forth, denial coursing through her. They couldn't have been lost. They couldn't have been.
She had learned what had happened from bits and pieces of their conversations, and had seen all that had transpired from her hiding place. Thinking her pain couldn't become any worse, she'd been proven wrong when the two Slytherins' bodies had been brought to the dungeons in a crate. She remembered nothing for a long time after that. When she'd finally come back to reality, Lauren had been laying half-dead on the floor beside Padma, and Virginia had been destroying everything in sight. Hermione had been spared the brunt of it, but she'd still been stabbed in the leg with a long splinter from a broken sofa.
She'd only left her spot to sneak a glass of water and to use the bathroom, and now, starving and thirsty and miserable, she knew that she had to move. Her throat was killing her, and her stomach felt as if it were eating itself. But she felt no real desire to get up, or, more likely, crawl. She could see no real reason for it. Knowing that those silver eyes would never light up again had squashed something within her brutally. Scores of things that she hadn't let herself admit had come to the forefront, no longer ignorable, and she felt as if her heart was being sucked out of her chest. Suddenly, she had the strongest urge to get out, and she looked around, seeing everyone asleep.
Had the Slytherins been slumbering normally, they would have awoken as soon as she started her slow drag across the floor, but they were not slumbering normally. Every throat had had a sleeping draught poured down it, and she made it to the exit when she realized that she didn't know how to get out. Cursing, she nearly had a stroke when a hand landed on her shoulder. Looking up into the bone-tired face of her only friend, she watched numbly as Lycelle opened the wall for her without a word in her direction. The girl nodded before going back to her chair and falling into it bonelessly, and Hermione was gone a few moments later.
Not really knowing where she was going, she used the wall to keep herself upright. She twisted through what had to have been a least a million corridors, and it came as quite a surprise when she felt freezing air brush her face and hands, blowing her hair back and littering it with snow. Tears springing to her eyes again, she marveled at the fact that there was even enough moisture left in her for them. Her feet led her towards the gardens, and she was shivering and blue by the time she reached them. Going to the back section, she sat on one of the icy stone benches and wondered what in the hell she was doing out there.
'Come to me.'
Oh lord. Oh sweet fucking lord. She was cracking up. Was that a voice inside her head?
'Come to me. I will give you the power to save them and have the one you desire.'
Laughing shrilly, she stood quickly and started to leave, thoroughly freaked out. This is not happening, she told herself, and nearly passed out when the voice answered her as if she'd spoken aloud.
'Oh, but it is. Do you want to save them or not?'
Deciding that she'd gone nutters, she figured 'why the hell not?' and answered back.
'Save who?'
'Why, your love and his, of course.'
'They're dead.' She replied, feeling like a fool as her heart began pounding.
'Nearly. But you…you're strong enough to save them. I'm sure of it.'
'Who are you?'
'A friend. I've known your silver prince for quite a while. I just wish to…help.'
'I…' She trailed off, something about all of this feeling wrong, but a second later, everything seemed quite surreal. And happy. 'Okay.' She found herself responding.
'So you will come? Come to save the one that you love?'
'Yes.' She said, after thoughts of silver hair and mercury eyes assaulted her brain. 'Yes, I will come.'
'Excellent.' The voice intoned, for the briefest moment sounding like a serpent. 'We will do great things…good things, you and I They will praise you for your actions, respect you like you wish for them to do. I will give all of that to you.'
'What do I do?' She asked, her thoughts a confused, enraptured jumble inside her head.
'Look under the bench, take the quill.'
Dropping to her knees in the snow, Hermione wondered many things. Like why snow had to be so cold in the first place, and why such a pretty voice had picked her of all people to talk to. She was nothing too special after all, but the pretty voice was going to help her become special. It would help her become beautiful and desired, would help her become what she'd realized, in the last few weeks, that she wished to be. Slytherin. The word whipped through her, bringing a smile to her lips as she spotted the worn-out quill. She reached for it reverently, knowing in a muddled way that it held the answer to all of her dreams, and her last thought as her fingers closed around it was base, drug up from the bottom of her soul.
'Draco Malfoy will be mine.'
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"I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts, diddily dee—"
'SMASH'!
"There they were all standing in a row, ho, ho, ho—"
'SMASH'!
"Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head—"
'SMASH'!
That game was getting boring, Virginia concluded, and let the next vase fall to the floor. She couldn't remember any more Disney songs anyway. Walt Disney had been her absolute favorite wizard when she'd been growing up, and she'd watched all of his movie crystals religiously. Tinkling laughter sounded to her left, and she spun, the shadows moving with her. It was like a cat chasing its tail. She could hear them, catch the barest glimpses, but she couldn't quite see them before they slid behind her again. She supposed that it was comforting, in a way. Better than being alone. Better than throwing everything breakable that she could find.
It was aggravating though. She wanted to see them, not play more games. Stomping her foot angrily, she informed them if they didn't quit, she wouldn't talk to them anymore. More delighted laughter was her only answer, and she growled. Stupid boys, she thought ruefully, and plopped down on the bed. Music sounded behind her, a piano, but she refused to give them the pleasure of a smile, even though she loved when they played. She had heard them do a duet for the first time at the Manor, and had been thrilled. Bartolomeo Cristofori, the inventor of the instrument, had been a wizard, so they had deemed it worthy of learning to play.
Unable to suppress a giggle, she turned again to tell them that it was beautiful, only to have everything shift again. The music still coming from behind her, she gave up and fell back against the pillows. As soon as she closed her eyes, she heard one strand of the music die away as feather-light fingers brushed over her skin, icy cold. Shivering in pleasure, she kept her eyes closed, knowing that he would disappear again were she to open them. They trailed over her stomach and up between her breasts, traced the rune of devotion over her heart, before moving to her throat and then starting all over again. Then they were gone.
The second strand of the music started again as the first fell away into nothing, and she dared not so much as breathe until charged fingertips brushed over her lips. Stifling a moan, she wished it would never stop, that she never had to leave this nice place that she had built inside herself. She wasn't completely unaware of the fact that she had lost her mind. But it was distant, like a memory trapped in a clear glass globe just out of her reach, but not utterly out of her perception. Phantom lips met hers, and she wondered if she really was imaging them. Maybe not. Maybe their ghosts had come back to haunt her until she joined them.
Then those lips were gone as well, and the eerie, soothing notes were made by four separate hands instead of two once more. Gods, how she wished that she could join them. How she wished she could pick up the broken pieces of one of the vases and slice her wrists open to the bone. Damn Padma. Damn her a thousand times over for binding her! She couldn't reach her magic, and couldn't even harm herself with material things. Apparently, they'd all just rather her waste away slowly locked in this room that smelled so strongly of her lovers. Apparently, they wanted her death to be a drawn-out affair, dramatic enough to be positively tragic.
Sighing and twirling a long, faded lock of what had been blood-red hair around her finger, she wondered what they would all say if she cut it all off. Then she wondered if she might be able to hang herself with it. It was certainly long enough. Dismissing the idea, as she was sure that the binding would thwart that effort too, she let the hair fall from her fingers as she started to hum the theme to another Disney movie, laughing when she heard them start humming it with her, their fingers having stopped their rhythmic tapping of the keys. She spun again, trying to catch sight of them, and her laughter stopped at once when she did move fast enough that time.
They were dead, dead, dead. Nothing more than ghastly skeletons clothed in their robes, crowned with their hair. Falling off the bed and landing in an ungainly crouch, she couldn't rip her eyes away as memories flooded back to her. Finding out she was Voldemort's Key, Pansy and Daphne being stolen from them, the rage, the death, the wait, the mission, the failure, the grief, the denial, the delivery, the death of her soul, the rage, the mourning…She screamed, scratching at her eyes, trying to make the flow of images stop their vehement assault. Gone! Her mind shrieked. Taken and stolen and GONE! Gone, gone, gone…
"Stop!"
And they did. The images finally ceased, and a strange calm infused her from head to foot, the first bit of lucidity that she'd felt in forever. Everything seemed to become stunningly clear. She could break free. Break free and end her pain and loneliness. But first, she had things to settle with the Dark Lord. She would probably die fighting him, but she'd be damned if she didn't take him with her. Standing on steady feet, she made her way purposefully to the room's vault. Stopping at the fire pit, she thanked the gods for small favors, since the self-cleaning spells had cleared away the ashes of the last fire, leaving the marble clean and spotless.
Whispered words in a tongue long lost to history had the stone disintegrating, a hole opening up in its place. A twisting stairway led down, and she took the steps three at a time, her mind racing and clouding with renewed fury. She reached the bottom soon enough, cloying music reaching her ears once again. She was glad that she could see in the dark, since she did not yet have her magic back, and therefore couldn't light the torches of summon a ball of witchlight. The hidden room was an arsenal. Stocked from floor to ceiling with magickal weapons, everything in it was deadly, from the more normal to the extreme.
A paralyzing dagger went in one boot, another that stole the victim's sight into the other, and she grabbed two identical ones that she recalled had a mean tendency to burrow into a body until they found and severed the spinal cord. They had adjustable wrist sheathes that she slid on without looking, as she didn't want to see the dead Mark on her arm. How many times had she screamed for Cocidius when they had first locked her away? The agony of separation from him was almost as difficult to breathe around as it was for her lovers. She felt like she was choking, but she pushed it back and grabbed a strand of small, explosive charms.
Her robe and pants hit the floor carelessly, she would need to change clothes anyway, and she buckled the charms on. They were in a black leather harness that strapped to her thigh, and were easily removable if you had trained fingers. Which she did. They had taken her through this room countless times, teaching her what each weapon did and how to use them, practicing with her until it was ingrained into her mind. Orbs that would release a thick layer of poisoned gas slid easily into a harness much like the other, and she strapped those to her other thigh, walking in an experimental circle to make sure that her movement wasn't impaired.
Ripping off her shirt, another harness slid on, that one almost like a corset, and it stretched from the bottoms of her breasts to her hips. Across the abdomen and back were horizontal, built-in sheathes, and slim throwing knives with essence of shadowleaf made into the blades slid home smoothly. There were twelve all together, six in the front and six in the back, and they seemed to pull at her, as if they had minds of their own and wished for the slaughter. Maybe they did. Two more harnesses were grabbed off of a shelf to her right, and they attached to the top of the wrist sheathes by a series of small clasps.
They were lined with the same tiny, poisoned darts her lovers had taken so many of the other night, and again, they slid out easily at a knowing touch. She considered taking one of the slender blowguns, but knew that it wasn't really necessary. She could throw them just fine. She couldn't call in her swords just yet, but she would soon enough, and she knew that there was only one more thing that she needed before she went back up, changed, and broke free of her bonds. She needed the one thing that she knew could kill the Dark Lord if she could get close enough to use it. Going to the far wall, she stood before the only bare spot in the room and spoke another password.
A hole opened up, revealing their most prized possessions that had come to the school with them. But she was not concerned with anything but the slender tube of crystal sitting on a pillow of silk. It was precious to them, and would heal them if they touched it, but to an enemy of theirs, it was the most deadly substance in any Realm. The Dark Lord did not have his full power, and to get it he needed her. Well, she would go to him as he wished for her to. But no matter the cost, he would not leave alive. He was still weak, still vulnerable. He could still be killed, and she…Well, she held the blood and tears of Cocidius in her hand. Looking up, she knew it was then or never.
They thought they could hold her? They were about to find out why her lovers called her their sun. Oh yes, it was time for Virginia Weasley to show her worth. She would have her pound of flesh.
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Well, there you go! Another chappie! PLEASE REVIEW!!!!
(Hephaestus – Greek God of the Forge and Fire)